


The Days Grow Hot, O Babylon

by Hannelore_Grace



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jim Moriarty/Mycroft Holmes, Jim Moriarty/Sebsatian Moran, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannelore_Grace/pseuds/Hannelore_Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft didn't just have Jim slapped around a bit when interrogating him. No, he took a much more personal approach to Jim's questioning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jim wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to be awake when he finally came to consciousness. He remained silent, quietly puzzling out his predicament with his eyes still closed. It would be such a shame to give up this minor advantage when he so obviously had few other resources at his disposal.

"There's no point in being shy, Mr. Moriarty," a smooth voice cut into his contemplation. "I think it's best if you and I become properly acquainted. We are going to get to know each other quite intimately over the next few days, after all."

Jim's lips quirked as he put a name with the voice. "I thought you were just teasing me with that veiled message of yours," he replied as he rolled into a sitting position. "It seemed so uncharacteristically dramatic of you. Cryptic allusions to 1940s Broadway plays hardly seems your style."

Mycroft gave Jim a pleased smile, as if he were a child that had said something unexpectedly witty. "I thought you would appreciate the effort I put into it. In all honesty, I hardly expected you to understand the message."

"Please," Jim smirked, "A sudden revival of The Iceman Cometh, quickly followed by a copy of Batman and Robin being delivered to my door? You couldn't have made it any more obvious, darling."

"And yet you still didn't have the sense to leave the country," Mycroft replied, arching an eyebrow as he tapped the metal tip of his umbrella against the concrete floor.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Jim grinned. "You falling down to my level? To watch will be simply delicious."

"I'm afraid you'll be doing much more than watching, Mr. Moriarty," Mycroft said, all pretenses of pleasantry stripped from his expression and voice. "You should have ran when you had the chance."

"Boring," Jim sighed, leaning back against the wall. "So much talking, too much of it, really. Of course, I shouldn't have expected anything else from you. You politicians are nothing but hot air with attention-seeking tendencies, after all."

"We'll see," came Mycroft's simple reply. With a small wave of his hand, two large men stepped into the cell and pulled Jim to his feet. "I'm afraid I've got to go attend to some business of my own, but I'm sure these two can keep you entertained while I'm away."

Jim feigned a pout, his lower lip curling out childishly. "You mean after all this you're just going to leave me in some goonies' hands? I'm disappointed, Mycroft."

"Don't be. I'll make time for you later," Mycroft said, turning to walk out the door and trying to hide his discomfort as Jim's pout turned to a broad, pleased grin.

-oOo-

Pain exploded from Jim's jaw, shooting up into his skull. His head snapped to the side, sending a light spray of sweat onto his shoulder, but he didn't so much as open his mouth to hiss in pain. He slowly curved his head back over to face his abusers, cracking his sore neck as he stared defiantly up at them. The same man pulled his meaty fist back and struck Jim multiple times, the blows landing in quick, hard successions. Jim felt his teeth breaking through the soft flesh on the inside of his mouth, but still he kept his mouth closed, the blood collecting in a thin line at the seam of his lips and slowly oozing down to his chin. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a smirk; if only Sebastian could see him now. Perhaps they could recreate this poor excuse of a torture in the bedroom, replacing, of course, the open-palmed slaps with knives and riding crops. Just the thought of leather striking his cheek made Jim a little too excited, and he had to shift in his seat to accommodate his growing discomfort. Luckily, a fist struck just a little too high on his temple, sending him into a daze which distracted him quite well from thoughts of Sebastian and his penchant for punishment.

What could have been minutes or hours later, Jim felt a splash of cold water on his face as his chin was roughly tilted upwards. "Drink," came the gruff order. Under normal circumstances, Jim would have declined, but it was rather forced upon him; the bottle tipped into his mouth of its own accord, and his only options were to drink or choke. He still choked a little bit, sending a spray of cold water up his nose much to his captor's amusement, but he was more concerned about accidentally swallowing the screw he had lodged under his tongue. A torn esophagus would only make the fun less amusing later on, after all. Finally, the bottle was removed and Jim was untied then knocked roughly onto the floor.

He watched as the men left, dragging the single chair they had brought with them out as the door slammed shut with an ominous clang behind them. The barest hint of a smile grew across his lips as leaned against the wall once more. He was sore and tired, but he wouldn't allow himself the luxury of rest. Not yet. Mycroft's promise to return still loomed overhead, and Jim refused to let himself be beaten before the real game even started. Instead, he distracted himself by scraping away at the concrete walls and glass window with the screw he had kept tucked under his tongue during his interrogations. He knew they would take it from him if they found it, so he had to keep it well-hidden whenever someone entered his cell. All the more reason not to scream during the beatings. He would hate to lose his sole means of distraction between interrogation sessions simply because he couldn't control himself.

Jim smirked as the next set of letters took shape. He knew that reports of his behavior were being sent directly to Mycroft, and so he had chosen the best way imaginable to get under the man's skin. Even someone as cold and distant as Mycroft couldn't ignore a psychopath carving their little brother's name into solid concrete using only his fingernails. Well, not only his fingernails, but Jim didn't think Mycroft would see that technicality.

Softly, he began humming to himself, choosing a suitably dark tune as his eyes wandered up to look directly into the security camera. He broke into a broad grin, the fresh cuts on his lips breaking open as he bared his teeth for Mycroft to see. Come and get me, the lop-sided smile said. He was tired of waiting; he was ready to play now.

-oOo-

Jim sighed as he stared at the far wall opposite himself. He was bored. The game had ceased to be fun, as Mycroft had still failed to make an appearance. All he had to keep himself distracted was his own wounds and his personal goal not to piss until he had disabled the security camera. He still had his screw, even though he now had to bury it inside one of his cuts to keep it hidden because the underside of his tongue was a bloody mess from having it digging into the tender muscle. He figured he could use it to break the camera, but he was too short to reach it on his own without some tricky wall scaling. He huffed as he thought about how useful learning how to pole dance would have been; at least then he would have had the upper body strength to reach the camera. As things stood, he was stuck with a full bladder and no desire to relieve himself on a video recording. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, smiling as he imagined taking a nice, long piss right in front of the cell door. Sure, the smell would be awful, but picturing Mycroft stepping in the mess was a pleasant image, indeed.

Abruptly, he was jarred out of his reverie by the sound of the door scraping open. The sound made him look up eagerly, searching for the face of the one man that could make all this worth it. He frowned in disappointment as he realized it was just another one of the goonies put in charge of keeping him under control. He snorted at the idea that someone could make him do something he didn't want to do, and smirked as he considered how perfectly his little plan was going thus far. Of course, the whole thing would be completely derailed if Mycroft never made his appearance.

"Drink," the man said as he thrust a bottle of water under Jim's nose. Jim tried to take it, figuring he might as well humor the man, but his sore arms would hardly move. That sort of thing tends to happen when one has spent the entirety of the previous day suspended from the ceiling with their arms tied above their head. The man smirked and grabbed Jim roughly by the back of his neck, forcing his mouth open as he jerked his chin back. "Not so tough now, eh?" he chuckled as he dumped the liquid down Jim's throat. "The tiger's not so feisty without his claws."

"Wrong person," Jim coughed as the last of the water was forced down his throat. He wasn't sure if it was the blood in his mouth or the cut in his cheek that was becoming infected, but something was making the water taste somewhat peculiar, more metallic than usual.

"What d'you mean?" the goonie scowled, twisting the cap back onto the bottle.

"You've got me mistaken for Sebastian," Jim laughed. "He's the tiger. I'm just the ring master that has him tamed." He realized as he began giggling at his own analogy that it was neither the blood nor the infection that had made the water taste strange; it had been drugged.

"Right," the man responded with a roll of his eyes. "I'd love to hear more about this circus of yours, but I think you've been scheduled for a nap." He smirked as he watched Jim's chin drop down to his chest, then jerk upwards as he struggled to stay awake.

" 'Sokay," Jim mumbled. "I can tell you 'bout it later. We've got plenty of time..." He slumped back against the wall, a small, frustrated groan escaping his lips. He felt control slipping from his fingers with every sleepy flutter of his eyelids. He knew he couldn't resist the drug, not when he was already exhausted and so ready for sleep, but he still kept fighting. The last thing he heard was a familiar, cold voice filling the cell.

"I think he's finally ready," came the hollow words, falling meaninglessly into Jim's muddled consciousness.

-oOo-

Jim groaned and tried stretching his aching muscles, only to find himself unable to move anything except his head and neck. He scowled, immediately pulling against his bonds as he tested their strength. Doing so sent sharp stabs of pain through his body, making him stop for fear of pulling one of his more delicate muscles. Moving would he hard enough after this ordeal; he hardly wanted to make it worse.

"Glad to see you're awake," Mycroft's voice carried through Jim's rushing thoughts. "I was afraid that the drug would have an adverse effect when administered after the patient has been fasting."

"Fasting?" Jim scoffed, surprised at how rough and strained his own voice sounded. "More like starved."

"Right," Mycroft smiled. "Well, I'll give you a few more moments to recuperate before we begin. My men tell me you've been quite belligerent; I believe I can break you of that attitude, however."

"How ambitious of you," Jim grinned as he tried to rally himself back together. "Although I doubt you'll make much better progress than they did."

"We'll see." Something about Mycroft's faint smirk made Jim uneasy, and he wasn't entirely sure why until he had gathered more of his predicament. He had been stripped and tied in a chair, his arms bound to the armrests, and his legs pulled up and tied on top of them. His displeased scowl deepened as he realized that his position left his cock, balls, and anus open to Mycroft's scathing gaze. He was hardly the type to feel shame at being exposed, but he loathed the way it automatically put Mycroft in a position of power. Not to mention that his bent position put even more pressure on his already straining bladder.

"Are you ready to begin, then?" Mycroft asked, advancing closer to Jim. Jim simply looked Mycroft directly in the eye, his expression defiantly neutral. "I'll interpret that as a yes," he smiled, his expression deceptively pleasant. He reached out and took a bottle off a table that was standing nearby. It was too high for Jim to see the other objects on the table from his awkward position, but he could take a guess at the their nature considering his nudity and opened position. Mycroft flipped the cap of the bottle open and slicked the lube onto his fingers, coating them thoroughly.

"This isn't supposed to be painful," he said while pulling his own chair up in front of Jim's, sitting down so that he was directly in front of his captive. "It will, however, become more unpleasant the more you resist me. Therefore, I suggest that you submit sooner rather than later." His lips quirked up dangerously as his fingers rubbed against Jim's puckered hole.

Jim ignored Mycroft, staring blankly into the middle distance as he avoided his captor's eyes. He couldn't help but give a low grunt of agitation as he felt the first finger sliding into him. It burnt; he hadn't been used like this in far too long for it not to feel like too much contact too fast, but he didn't allow for more than a slight shifting of his expression. He felt Mycroft pushing in deeper, forcing the muscle open as he began thrusting the intruding digit in and out of Jim's hole. A second quickly joined the first, and together they began scissoring him open. Jim tugged at his bonds once again, feeling anger welling up as Mycroft chuckled at him.

"You haven't been fucked in a while, have you?" he asked, his eyes sharp and taunting. "I was under the impression that you and Colonel Moran were quite the productive couple in that department."

"I've been a bit busy," Jim smirked, ignoring the fact that Mycroft had just pushed a third finger into him. "Derailing your brilliant plans, harassing your little brother, the like..." He gave an involuntary gasp as Mycroft pressed his fingers against his prostate, making him wriggle in his seat once again.

"It's probably best that you don't talk, Mr. Moriarty," Mycroft scolded. "You might upset me, and I might become inclined to make this more unpleasant than necessary." He worked his fingers in hard circles over Jim's prostate, smirking as Jim gasped and writhed on his fingers. Jim's cock was now erect and his cheeks were flushed as he strained to both get away from and get more of the contact from Mycroft's fingers.

"If you want me to be quiet, then gag me," Jim snarled, twisting his wrists underneath the ropes. "Because otherwise I'm afraid you're out of luck."

"No," Mycroft replied, pulling his fingers out of Jim and watching with cool disinterest as the muscle winked open and closed, asking to be fucked. "The only way I'll be gagging you is with my cock in your mouth; I want to hear every noise you make with utter clarity. I want to hear the exact moment when I break you." He stood and picked a dildo up off the table, slicking it in lube just as he had done with his fingers. "Now, let's hear you scream..."

He thrust the toy deeply into Jim, not giving him time to adjust before he was roughly fucking him with the toy, thrusting it in and out of Jim's entrance with enough force to push him uncomfortably against the back of the seat and to make him cry out with each inward press of it. Jim's eyes scrunched closed as fought to keep himself quiet, to separate his mind from his body. He gave a low, needy moan as his hips jerked of their own accord, seeking friction on his leaking cock. Suddenly, it was given to him. Mycroft's warm hand wrapped around his prick and began pumping it in time with the thrusts of the dildo. "More," Jim heard himself moan, his voice breathy and shaking as his hips continued thrusting up to meet Mycroft's palm. Mycroft obliged him, and began pushing the dildo into him in short, sharp strokes that sent thrills of pleasure through Jim's body as his prostate was almost constantly stimulated. With a loud cry, Jim came, shooting his hot cum over his own chest and stomach.

Mycroft pulled away, leaving the dildo buried deeply inside Jim. He watched Jim expectantly, and for a moment Jim didn't understand why. He quickly connected the dots, however, as he felt the pressure in his bladder suddenly increase as he finished shuddering through the waves of his orgasm. He quickly focused his attention on holding back the need to let go, scowling at Mycroft once again.

"What a pity," Mycroft sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to try something else, then."

-oOo-

Jim was allowed to rest for five minutes while Mycroft left the room, presumably to wash his hands or possibly have a quick wank, depending on how fast he could get himself off. Jim amused himself by imagining Mycroft as the type to cum when so much as a gust of wind blew between his legs, distracting himself from his sore arse, sticky stomach, and uncomfortably full bladder. He couldn't deny that Mycroft had given him one of the best orgasms he'd had in a while, but now he was done with this game. He wanted to be untied, to have the dildo that was pressed unpleasantly inside himself taken out, to be dressed once again. Unfortunately, Mycroft's ominous threat pretty much disbanded any hopes Jim had of any of those things happening soon. He huffed out an irritated breath and wriggled in his seat, trying to make his stiff muscles more comfortable as he waited for Mycroft to return.

Mycroft did not make an appearance, but a couple of his men did. They grinned at the sight of Jim, taunting him with sneers as they set to untying him. He was shoved to the floor, tumbling as easily as a precariously placed stack of books thanks to his sore muscles. He managed to catch himself enough to prevent his face from smacking into the concrete, not that it would have mattered much anyway; enough bruises covered his face to negate the point of preventing more from developing. He shivered against the cold floor, waiting patiently for whatever would come next.

He did not have to wait long. Leather cuffs were quickly linked over his wrists and ankles, and he was forced to his feet. Jim gritted his teeth at being restrained once again, giving a little pained grunt as his legs were forced apart and the cuffs on his ankles were attached to a spreader bar. The bar was then chained to a hook on the floor, and the process was repeated with the wrist cuffs, only they were chained to a hook in the ceiling so he forced to stand spread-eagled with his arms raised above his head. He glared at the men, but otherwise did not say anything. No point in wasting his energy on the lesser men. They left the cell then, leaving Jim in cold silence.

Instinctively, he began pulling on the restraints, twisting his wrists and ankles and testing how much movement he was allowed. The chains connecting the bars to the ceiling and floor prevented him from being able to do more than move his hips just a few fractions of an inch, and even doing that much pulled his muscles uncomfortably. He wanted to scream in frustration at being bound so effectively, but he held back, forcing himself into furious silence. He was sure Mycroft would return soon, and that would mean starting a whole new battle.

Jim was correct in his assumption; Mycroft returned after just a couple of more minutes, his eyes falling appreciatively on Jim's fettered form. "You know, I can't help but think that this is how you belong, chained and restrained like an animal." He smirked as he advanced on Jim, walking around him in a slow, appraising circle. "The look suits you, after all."

"It must be so hard for you," Jim replied, his voice hard and sharp-edged, "Having all these sadistic tendencies and never being able to relieve them. Playing for the good guys isn't much fun, is it?"

"Plenty more fun than you're having," Mycroft replied, giving Jim's arse a sharp slap with his hand. Jim fought back a surprised gasp, gritting his teeth to keep himself quiet. "I believe you'll be quite keen to give me what I want when I'm done with you this time." His palm landed across Jim's bare arse once again, then yet again, multiple smacks striking his quickly pinkening cheeks in quick succession. Jim snarled and tried to twist away from Mycroft's hand, but the chains held him in place. Mycroft simply seemed encouraged by Jim's writhing and began striking him harder and faster, causing the dildo to move inside Jim's arse with each slap, until his own palm was tingling and Jim's arse was a vibrant red.

He stepped back, admiring his work and panting slightly as he shook feeling back into his hand. Jim himself was gasping, his sides shaking with the force of his heavy breaths as he struggled to recuperate from the spanking. "What...the fuck was that?" he gasped, shivering slightly as he imagined what else Mycroft had in store for him this time around.

"Punishment," Mycroft said simply, picking a riding crop up off the table. "You get off on this sort of thing, don't you?" he asked as he strolled around to face Jim, the leather tip of the riding crop brushing around Jim's back, side, and stomach as he paced around the criminal. "You like being hurt, fighting to stay in control of yourself despite your body's betrayals."

Jim grinned broadly at him, fighting back his growing arousal as the leather stroked up the inside of his thigh and tapped lightly against his exposed balls. "You know me so well, darling, but I'm afraid I don't understand the point of this anymore. Isn't pleasuring me counter-productive? I'm not likely to tell you anything when keeping quiet guarantees me an orgasm."

"This isn't about information, Mr. Moriarty," Mycroft replied, brushing the riding crop up the underside of Jim's cock. "We both know that. This is about power; the information part will come after you've finally given up." Abruptly, he brought the riding crop down, smacking the inside of Jim's thigh with enough force to make Jim cry out despite his efforts against it. An angry red line was already visible against his pale skin, marring the otherwise clear planes of flesh. Jim hissed in pain as Mycroft rubbed the leather tip over the mark, then brought it down over the same spot again and again, until it felt as if Jim's skin were going to split open. Jim bit the inside of his cheek, groaning and breathing sharply through his nose as he fought back screams.

This continued for some time, Mycroft striking Jim repeatedly until his thighs, back, and arse were covered in violent shades of red. When Mycroft finally stopped, Jim sagged against his restraints, gasping as tears fell down his cheeks and blood dribbled over his lips and chin, old wounds in his mouth broken open from his efforts to stay silent. He was shaking and sweating, his muscles trembling uncontrollably, and yet his cock was now rock-hard, standing erect above his abused legs and dripping precum down his shaft. Each smack of the riding crop against his arse had made the dildo press deliciously against his prostate, just as the pained tensing of his muscles made it do the same.

"Lovely," Mycroft purred as he rubbed the riding crop over Jim's cock and balls once again, making him shudder in mixed pain and pleasure. "Do you think you could come just from being beaten? I think it's possible, but that may be an experiment best left for another time; I don't want you too worn out and sore to talk to me after this is all done, after all."

Jim simply spat a glob of blood at him, grinning impishly as it landed on the toe of Mycroft's polished shoes. Mycroft sighed, shaking his head before striking Jim across the jaw with the riding crop. Jim yelped in pain, but let out an amused chuckle, too. "So touchy," he smirked, reveling in Mycroft's frustrated expression as he realized that he still didn't have Jim beaten.

Mycroft's mouth quickly shifted from a deep scowl to a hard, determined line as he stepped closer to Jim, reaching behind him to push the handle of the riding crop up his arse alongside the toy that was still buried inside him. Jim screamed, the stretch far too much without proper lubrication or preparation, and he thought for sure he was being ripped open from the inside out. Mycroft took pity on him and quickly worked some lube around his entrance before slowly moving the riding crop in and out of him, forcing him even farther open with each slow pull and push of the wooden handle. Jim whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes once again as he struggled to breath through the pain. Despite all this, he was still aching to get off; the riding crop was pushing the dildo up against his prostate with every subtle movement, and it was driving Jim insane with agonizing pleasure.

"You have to make everything difficult," Mycroft growled. "This all could have been over with long before now, but you've just got to have the last word."

Jim wanted desperately to answer, but Mycroft chose that moment to twist the handle of the riding crop around, making him scream out once again. He could feel the hot tension building in his lower abdomen, and he craved release, even at Mycroft's hand. The older man smirked as he watched Jim shuddering and gasping, sweat rolling down his temple and back as the riding crop and dildo alike moved inside of him. He reached around and gripped Jim's cock, stroking him in slow, gentle motions that made Jim whimper for more. Gradually, he pulled Jim toward orgasm until he was trembling violently with the need to come. Mycroft gave him a couple of quick strokes, both with his hand and the riding crop, and pushed Jim over the edge. Just as he began to come, however, Mycroft pinched the tip of Jim's cock, making him cry out sharply in pain as Mycroft rolled his head tightly between his fingers. He still came, but it was with a weak, pain-filled sob. He fell limp as soon as his climax was completed, only the chains holding him up preventing him from falling down on the floor.

"Very good," Mycroft cooed as he pulled both the handle of the riding crop and the dildo out of Jim. "You did very well." His hand stayed over Jim's balls, rubbing them firmly just to hear the whimpers it drew out of Jim in his post-orgasmic haze. He knelt down to unhook the chains from the floor, then stood up once again, his front pressed to Jim's back as he continued rubbing Jim's sensitive cock and balls. Jim was so exhausted from the second orgasm coupled with the beating that he couldn't do anything to resist the fondling. Instead, he gave quiet moans, his head rolling loosely on his neck while Mycroft reached up to unhook the restraints on his arms. Jim sagged back against the older man as soon as he was released, unable to keep himself up on his feet. Mycroft held him, his other hand wrapping around Jim's waist to press over Jim's achingly full bladder. "Still not going to let go?" he asked, his fingers pinching Jim's tip once again. "I admire your dedication, but it's foolish nonetheless."

Jim groaned pitifully as Mycroft rubbed the head of his cock between his fingers. His head dropped as he realized that the ordeal was far from over. Part of him cringed away from the idea, while another part relished it.

-oOo-

Mycroft dragged Jim over to a sturdy metal table and laid him on it before undoing the cuffs and spreader bars. Jim's eyes were fluttering closed, and his body laid limp and unmoving as Mycroft freed his arms and legs. Mycroft smiled and picked up a tube of cream then squirted some on his fingers. Gently, he began rubbing it over the welts on Jim's inner thighs. Jim gave a low hiss of pain at the initial contact, but relaxed as the careful rubbing continued, the cream acting as a soothing agent to the sharp stinging of the welts.

"You're as bad as my brother," Mycroft murmured as he massaged the ointment into Jim's wounds. "You haven't any instincts for self-preservation."

Jim's lips twitched at the corners, forming a small smirk. "Self-preservation implies the desire to persevere."

"Ah," Mycroft responded. "Still, even those that are suicidal don't often like being tortured."

"Baby, when they made me, they broke the mold," Jim chuckled, his voice raspy and harsh. He writhed under Mycroft's soft touch, trying to find a position that made it easier for him to fight back the need to piss. No matter how he turned, however, the uncomfortable pressure was still there. It only became worse when Mycroft flipped him over onto his stomach, rolling Jim so that he could apply the ointment to his back and arse.

"Of course. How silly of me to forget that you're a more highly-evolved model of mankind," Mycroft replied sarcastically. He allowed his hand to linger on Jim's reddened bum, his palm lightly squeezing the rise of his arse. His thumb slid into Jim's crease and slowly stroked over his abused hole, making Jim shudder.

"Don't discredit yourself," Jim grunted as he wriggled ever so slightly away from the unwanted touch. "You've already proven to be above normal human qualms concerning morality."

Mycroft's thumb pushed fully into Jim, making him hiss in displeasure. "I am not like you, if that's what you're trying to imply," he frowned as he twisted the digit around, roughly dragging it over Jim's tender rim.

"Pot, meet kettle," Jim bit out, looking over his shoulder and baring his teeth at Mycroft in anger. It was ineffectual, however; Mycroft continued tormenting Jim's hole with his thumb while his other fingers curled downward and fondled his balls. Jim groaned as his sensitive genitals were subjected to more contact than he could bear. His forehead thunked against the metal table top, his neck no longer able to hold it up as his body was abused once more.

"I rather like doing this to you," Mycroft smirked. "At first I had hoped that you would give in easily, but I find watching you struggle to maintain control utterly fascinating. I imagine this is what it would look like if humans went into heat just like animals."

He flipped Jim over once again, pushing his legs so that they were spread open and his cock was fully exposed. Mycroft kept one hand at Jim's entrance, his fingers teasing his hole and prostate, while the other began caressing Jim's flaccid prick. Jim moaned, struggling weakly to try and get away from the torturous contact, but Mycroft tightened his grip on Jim's cock, holding him in place. With a resigned whimper, Jim fell limp once again, knowing that he couldn't fight against what was happening.

Mycroft slid his hand up and down Jim's shaft then rubbed his thumb over the smaller man's head. Jim gave a light hiss, but otherwise didn't respond to the touch. While he continued fondling Jim's cock, Mycroft's fingers worked deeply inside Jim, massaging his prostate between the pads of his fingertips and rubbing over it in teasing circles. He watched appreciatively as Jim twitched and moaned with each stroke of his fingers, unable to find pleasure from the touches so soon after his second orgasm.

"You can't get your cock up for me again, can you?" Mycroft smirked. "What a pity, because I'm hardly done with you. I suppose I could try to help you..." He leaned down and took the head of Jim's cock between his lips. He suckled at the tip for a moment, listening to the low, piteous whines it drew out of Jim, then slowly swallowed his shaft down, occasionally scraping his teeth over the sensitive organ. Jim moaned loudly, his fingers and toes curling as his cock was enveloped in the wet heat of Mycroft's mouth.

"You're not helping," Jim gasped, his hips writhing as he fought to get away from Mycroft. He knew that he couldn't possibly get an erection so soon after just coming, but Mycroft continued to suck his cock and slowly thrust his fingers in and out of Jim's body. He snarled and glared down at Mycroft between his spread legs, only to see the man smirking as he moved up and down Jim's length. "You're a bastard," he bit out before dropping his head back against the table, his face turning to the side as he fought back the urge to scream in frustration at what was happening to him. For a moment he considered just pissing directly into Mycroft's mouth, but then he realized that doing so would mean losing this bizarre game of theirs. No, he decided, he could hold out a little longer...

As if reading Jim's mind, Mycroft moved away from his cock."Still nothing?" Mycroft asked as he wiped his chin, his lips obscenely wet and red. "What a shame. Don't worry, though; I have other means of helping you. Modern medicine has achieved many wonders, after all..." He picked up an alcohol wipe and rubbed it against Jim's inner elbow before pushing a syringe into the soft skin. He quickly injected the liquid into Jim's bloodstream, then pulled one of the chairs up to have a seat while he waited for it to take effect. "That should give us quite a bit more time to break you down," he said with a malicious grin.

Jim turned his head away from his tormentor, taking this brief respite to try and gather his strength. He wanted desperately to curl up and sleep for days, but he doubted that Mycroft would give him such a luxury.

-oOo-

Jim moaned and shifted uncomfortably as the drug began to take effect. He could feel his cock thickening as it was filled with blood, slowly coming erect as Mycroft watched from his seat. Jim closed his eyes, trying to fight against the drug all the while knowing that it was a losing battle. His cock was fully stiff now, despite his body being sore and exhausted.

"Very good," Mycroft said dryly, "We can start again now, I think." He made a small motion at the glass window in the cell, and soon Jim heard the door scraping open. He rolled his head over to blink at the stranger, and frowned in mild confusion. The person was a somewhat large woman; she was built thickly, with muscles evident under her clothing, and she was certainly taller than Jim. "You know what to do," Mycroft said as he pulled his chair up against the wall so that he was sitting above Jim's head.

With a careless wave of instruction from Mycroft, the woman began to strip. She toed off her boots and peeled off her black cargo pants, allowing them to fall easily to the floor. Her shirt and sports bra came next, leaving her fully naked. Jim groaned as he took in the sight of her, and he had to force himself not to begin stroking his cock. The woman didn't seem to pay him or Mycroft any attention at all; she simply picked up a device off the table and began strapping it onto herself. Jim's eyes widened as he realized what it was, and he instinctively cringed away from the thick, curved cock that was now attached to the woman. His arse was already terribly sore, and being fucked with such a device certainly wouldn't do him any favors.

"Restrain him however you need," Mycroft ordered, "But don't touch his cock until you're told." The woman gave a curt nod, then roughly flipped Jim onto his stomach before he could even protest. He gasped as he was slammed face-down onto the cold, hard surface, and felt fresh blood began to pour from his nose. Kicking out frantically, he tried to knock the woman away, but she was much faster than him in his pain-addled state. She climbed onto the table and grabbed the back of his neck with one hand, pressing his face even harder into the tabletop, then hoisted his hips up off the table with her other hand. Jim's palms pressed against the table, trying to push his weight up to force her off, but she had him held tight, her fingers digging bruises into his skin as she lined up her cock. With a hard, quick snap of her hips, she had buried the full length of the cock inside him, making Jim yell and begin clawing frantically at the table as he continued trying to push her off of himself.

"Fuck him hard," Mycroft said, sounding incredibly disinterested. "I want you to make him scream." The woman instantly obeyed, her hips thrusting hard enough to make obscene slapping sounds against Jim's arse as she fucked him. Jim was struggling to keep silent, but his bleeding nose made it far more difficult; he had to pant for breath through his mouth because of the thick stream of blood clogging his nose, a necessity which made it even more difficult to hold back his pained, breathy gasps as his arse was filled over and over again with the thick cock. His fingers had curled into his palms, and his nails were digging painfully into the soft skin as he gritted his teeth and tried to block out the warm feeling of the woman's skin sliding against his own.

"This must be very hard for you," Mycroft said smoothly, his voice even but loud enough to be heard clearly over the slap of skin and Jim's harsh panting. "She didn't even finish school, you know. Much less attend university. And yet she's dominating you, taking control of your body despite her intellectual inferiority. It must be very frustrating to be under the mercy of such a person."

As Mycroft spoke, Jim felt the woman's grip tighten on his neck and hips, and she began fucking him even harder, and suddenly the whole situation was just too absurd. He began laughing, the sound sharp and near hysteric as it was punctuated with pained cries. "Please spare me dramatics, Mycroft," he chuckled, his voice wavering. "I'm not as easily manipulated as your friends in the government, and angering your employees is hardly a suitable business model."

He tilted his chin up as much as the hand on his neck would allow, smirking as he saw Mycroft's mouth settle into an angry line. "I believe it's better than killing them," the older man replied thinly.

"Perhaps," Jim laughed again, "But a dead man-- or woman-- can't snap my neck in my sleep." He grunted as the woman shifted positions slightly, causing the cock to tug painfully at his entrance. Her movements resumed their punishing rhythm, making Jim's cheek press hard against the metal tabletop with each inward thrust. He hissed a sharp breath through his teeth, doing his best not to show how miserable he was. The rubber cock burnt with each slide through his hole, and her tight grip was beginning to feel as if it were leaving bone-deep bruises. His knees were aching and his thighs were shaking with the strain of holding himself up, all the while he was still struggling to breathe through his blood-clogged nose.

"You're not doing your job," Mycroft snapped at the woman. "You were told to fuck him, not make love to him. Now make him scream." His voice had dropped dangerously low, and for once Jim almost understood why he seemed so frightening to the average person. The woman gave a low, agitated huff, but obeyed nevertheless. The hand on the back of his neck slid around to the front, while the one on his hip wrapped around his waist. In one rough motion, she pulled herself and Jim both back so that they were on their knees on top of the table, her hand coming down to his lower stomach to hold him in place as she continued fucking him. Jim moaned as the change of position strained the wounds on his back and thighs, and her thrusting was now hard enough that he was sure some of the welts had finally broken open and were leaking warm blood down his thighs.

The woman was panting heavy, hot breaths down the back of Jim's neck as she fucked him, and she was obviously growing tired of the game. Her teeth bit into the shell of his ear and tugged sharply as the hand around his waist dropped down to rub and squeeze his balls. Jim cried out, aching to have her hand move to his cock. Instead, the one around his neck tightened until he was choking, unable to breathe at all under her firm grip. His eyes widened in shock, even more so as her fingers squeezed his balls harder, making him reflexively gasp which turned instead to a choke as her hand pressed even harder into his trachea. His panic response kicked in as she continued holding him too tightly, not allowing any oxygen to enter his burning lungs. He began thrashing as much as he could, but the tight grip on his testicles kept him held firmly in place. She continued crushing his windpipe until his head was lolling and his limbs had gone numb, then she dropped him, pushing him forward with a hard shove. His body thudded heavily onto the table top, his head smacking down onto the metal with a resounding thunk. Jim immediately began frantically gasping in air, coughing and wheezing as he fought to breathe; meanwhile, the woman was thrusting into him even harder, impossibly so, as her blunt nails scraped down his back, clawing over the marks left by the riding crop. Once he finally caught his breath, Jim began screaming, weakly trying to shake her hands away from his bleeding and bruised back.

"Good," Mycroft smirked. "You may get him off now." The woman's hand dropped down to Jim's aching, leaking cock and began stroking it, her fingers curling roughly around his shaft. Despite the tight, uncomfortable pressure, Jim found himself moaning and rocking into her hand, desperately trying to get off to make it all stop. He was panting, his breath coming in a deep, shaky rattle as he came closer and closer to climax. Finally, she twisted her hand, rubbing her thumb just right over his head to send him over the edge. With a hoarse, ragged shout, he came, moaning weakly as he sagged into her grip. She continued fucking his tender arse for a few moments thereafter, him whimpering as the cock continued scraping against his prostate, then stopped when Mycroft waved her aside. She dismounted Jim, the cock pulling out of his arse with a slick, slippery sound. He shuddered, not wanting to imagine what his backside looked like.

Jim was only hazily aware of the sounds around himself; a clicking and light thud which could only have been the woman taking off the strap on, followed by a rustling sound that was her putting her clothes back on. Mycroft, meanwhile, was disturbingly quiet. Slowly, Jim raised his head to look at him, blinking owlishly at his captor. A small grin twitched at his lips as he saw that Mycroft still did not look pleased. Following his climax, Jim felt even more desperate for release, but he thought he could control it at least a little bit longer, especially if doing so made that deliciously disgruntled expression stay on Mycroft's face. He smirked, then allowed his head to drop back down to the table, his sides shaking as he began the slow recovery from being so thoroughly fucked.

"I think," Mycroft said slowly, "Mr. Moriarty needs a rest. Would you oblige him?" The woman looked at Mycroft questioningly for only a moment before his meaning set in. She roughly flipped Jim over to his back, making him give a yelp of pain that was closer to a squeal as his freshly injured back hit the hard surface of the table, then she gripped his throat once again. Jim didn't even try to fight it this time; he curled his hands into fists and waited for complete darkness to overtake him, knowing that his situation would more than likely be much more bleak when he awoke next.

-oOo-


	2. Chapter 2

Jim winced as a cool draft blew over his sweat-soaked skin. He shivered, his naked body curling around itself, only to quickly freeze as the movement caused an unfamiliar, strange pressure around his hips and groin. He scrunched his eyes closed more tightly, whimpering as he fought back the urge to look down and see what new atrocity had been done to him. A few more moments of blissful ignorance were welcome as he shut himself away from reality.

Eventually, Jim could no longer fight the urge to investigate the strange silence in which he had been left. He peeled his tear-crusted eyes open and blinked into his cell, frowning as he realized that he was alone for the first time in what felt like days. Not only that, but he was unfettered, and his cell door was wide open. He instantly understood the implication: If you can get out, you can leave. He doubted that the challenge was quite so simple, but he was never one to turn such a thing away.

Tentatively, he sat up, gasping as a shock of pain went through his arse and up his spine. He girtted his teeth and turned so his feet dangled off the edge of the table. Again, he was reminded of the odd pressure around his hips and groin. He scowled and looked down, his fingers trailing over the leather strap that circled his hips like a belt. Two straps stretched below that one, forming a V around his cock and meeting in one strap just below his balls. That strap then threaded between his arse cheeks and met with the one around his hips. Jim bared his teeth in anger as he realized that the whole device was locked in place in the back, effectively keeping the thing in place despite his frustrated tugging at it. Worse yet, the two straps around his cock worked to hold a cockring in place, while the strap running between his crease very clearly held a sex toy of some kind inside him. Jim took a moment to close his eyes and huff a few sharp, angry breaths between his teeth before refocusing on the goal at hand; as long as he could make it to the door, everything would be alright.

Jim's feet were barely even on the cold concrete floor when he felt a sharp, persistent buzz in his backside. He groaned as his cock immediately became erect, straining against the straps and ring. He gripped the edge of the table to try and center himself against the onslaught of the vibrator, but no matter how much he tried to gather his resolve, the pulsing in his arse made him want to lay down on the floor and rut into his palm like a whore. He took a shaky step toward the door, but his knees quickly gave out, both from exhaustion and pain as the welts and cuts from earlier began to break open down his thighs and back. He whimpered, curling his knees under himself and resting his head on his forearms as his body instinctively rocked back against the vibrator buried inside his arse. He wanted more, he wanted it to stop, he never wanted it to stop.

"You can touch yourself, if you want," Mycroft's smooth voice filled the cell, condescending as ever. "I won't stop you. In fact, I encourage it."

"Fuck off," Jim growled, glowering at the older man. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, but that simply pressed the vibrator harder against his prostate, making him gasp and shiver. He dug his curled fists onto the floor, letting the hard press of the concrete against his knuckles keep him distracted from the need to touch himself, to try and relieve the growing heat in balls and cock.

"I understand your frustration; however, I must point out that it is your own fault. All of this could have been over a long time ago," Mycroft replied, absent-mindedly tapping the tip of his umbrella on the floor. Jim glared at it and imagined impaling Mycroft on his beloved brolly, ripping him open with it as he had torn Jim open. Only he wouldn't stop, not until Mycroft was no longer able to look at him with that expression of thinly veiled smugness and superiority.

Jim ignored Mycroft's provocation, though, and concentrated on trying to keep himself calm. He gave a choked gasp as he felt the vibrations suddenly grow more intense, sending waves of unwanted pleasure through him.

"You will answer me when I'm speaking to you," Mycroft said, his voice level and cool as ever.

"Even if it's just to tell you you're a prick?" Jim bit out, finding it more difficult not to touch himself as his hips strained to rock back against the vibrator despite his efforts against the impulse.

"Indeed," Mycroft smirked. "I like the way your voice sounds when you're being fucked."

"I bet I'll like yours, too," Jim laughed, the sound sharp and nearly hysterical. "Of course, I'll do much worse to you. You're so unimaginative."

"Really?" Mycroft chuckled back, "Thus far you've seemed to have rather enjoyed the fruits of my labours." His eyes wandered down Jim's body to his red, bulging erection.

Jim shuddered as he felt the scathing gaze on himself. Suddenly, he almost understood why normal people seemed to loathe the idea of being naked in public. He had always sort of enjoyed it, but this sort of exposure, this feeling of being open in the worst ways imaginable, was not pleasant at all. "Oh, I've certainly enjoyed it," he grunted. "But now it's getting repetitive. Boring."

Mycroft shrugged, his finger spinning around the dial to the remote he held, making the vibrations grow even more intense. "Then I can make it more interesting," he smirked as Jim cried out and fell doubled over on the floor once again.

"What are you using to power this thing?" Jim gasped, sweat collecting on his temple and down his back. "A jet engine?"

"My toys don't have to be approved for commercial use," Mycroft replied simply. "In fact, you're the first person to test this one. It might very well give you internal bleeding if I turn it up too high. This is only the medium setting."

Jim whimpered and dropped his head on the concrete, letting his forehead loll against the cool surface. "I despise you," he growled.

"I know," Mycroft replied dryly. "I didn't take you to make friends, however. Are you sure you don't want to take care of that?" he asked, motioning to Jim's leaking cock. "It must be quite painful by now."

"No point," Jim huffed. "The cockring will just make touching it worse."

"Very astute," Mycroft nodded. "I wonder how long you'll be able to remember that." His finger gently wound the setting up higher, and he watched as Jim writhed on the floor, his muscles twitching as he fought the urge to take himself in hand and rock desperately into his palm.

"Bastard," Jim hissed, rolling onto his back, his feet planted on the floor and knees pulled up as he tried to breathe through the torment.

"I assure you, your insults are falling on deaf ears."

Jim groaned, no longer able to control his hips as they began rocking up, his cock searching for friction as he rolled onto the vibrator. He continued throwing a vague stream of curses and snarled insults at Mycroft, but he knew they were largely dulled by the fact that his hand had finally gripped his cock and began stroking the hot, slick member out of desperation. He whimpered as his fist made his raw and sore cock ache even more, but still he continued thrusting up into it, panting heavily as the vibrator and his own touch made even more pre-cum dribble out of his slit. He moaned loudly as his thumb circled around it, adding more lubrication to his cock.

"You see?" Mycroft asked with a snide smirk. "Isn't this better."

Jim gave a weak, desperate sob as the fingers of one hand tugged at the cockring, trying to work it off, while his other hand continued tugging at his cock. The litany of curses grew even louder and more forceful with every prolonged moment of torture. Mycroft simply watched dispassionately, occasionally turning the vibrations up more and more until Jim was writhing and nearly screaming in agonized pleasure. Finally, he came, sobbing as it was forced out of him despite the cockring. Mycroft smirked and quickly shut the vibrator off then rolled Jim onto his stomach to begin unlatching the straps that had held the cockring and vibrator in place.

Jim was only hazily aware of his surroundings as Mycroft freed him of the device. His body was shuddering weakly as his muscles protested the abuse they had been given, and he could hardly breathe for the thick, pained tears that had been forced out of him. It wasn't until he felt a hot flood of liquid growing under himself that he realized he had lost all control. His breath hitched, and he gasped in shame and frustration as he was covered in his own urine, unable to stop the tide of piss no matter how hard he tried. The smell made him cringe, as did the sensation of it pooling under himself.

"Oh, good," Mycroft purred as he pulled the vibrator out of Jim's stretched and reddened hole. His hand came down to rub the curve of Jim's arse, pressing him down into the mess of piss and cum. "You've finally learned who your master is."

Jim closed his eyes, choking through the constriction in his throat, a tightness that felt far too much like shame and defeat for his liking.

-oOo-

Mycroft's hand lingered on Jim's arse for a few more moments, his palm cupping and even squeezing the warm skin under his hand. He knelt over Jim's shivering body, shifting slightly as the sight of Jim, so utterly weak and helpless under his control, made his cock stiffen in his trousers. He squeezed Jim's arse harder, his nails digging into the abused skin, before making a quick decision. Within moments, he had toed off his shoes and kicked aside his trousers. He got on his knees over Jim, his legs spread apart so that he was straddling the smaller man.

Through the murky edges of his awareness, Jim felt a weight settling down on top of himself. He tried to squirm away, but Mycroft pushed a firm hand down between his shoulder blades, forcing him to remain still. Closing his eyes tightly, Jim tried to ignore the sticky, cooling puddle under himself and the warm, probing member sliding between his crease. He gasped as he felt the head of Mycroft's cock slide into his arse. His overworked hole easily accommodated Mycroft's girth, but he had been fucked so raw that the penetration burnt, making him groan slightly as Mycroft slid fully into him.

Mycroft placed one hand firmly on Jim's back, pressing him down hard into the mess he'd left in the floor, while his other hand grabbed hold of his hair. With Jim effectively pinned in place, Mycroft began pistoning his hips, thrusting his cock deeper and harder into Jim with each pass. Better than the feeling of Jim's warm arse wrapped around his prick was the soft moans and whimpers the fucking drew out of Jim. Mycroft rubbed his back soothingly, only to snap his hips sharply into Jim, making him gasp in pain.

"You're pathetic," Mycroft growled, his voice predatory as he dragged his nails down Jim's welt-covered back. "Laying in a puddle of your own piss, getting fucked like a common whore."

Jim gritted his teeth against the insults. He was too exhausted and sore to think up an appropriately scathing remark at the moment, though, so he was forced to just take the abuse in silence. He would have gladly slipped into a doze if Mycroft didn't make it so impossible for him to distract himself from the rough fucking. Any time Jim had become desensitized enough from Mycroft's thrusting to distance his mind from his body, Mycroft slapped his arse or clawed at his back or changed the rhythm of his fucking. He kept Jim always on edge, his mind forced to stay alert throughout the entire ordeal.

Mycroft had never felt so much pleasure from a casual fuck before. Well, one could hardly call this casual, but it certainly wasn't intimate in the least. Not with the smell of piss, sweat, and cum filling the air. Not with Jim's occasional attempts to struggle against him. No, nothing about this was tender or caring. It was rough, vicious, and utterly filthy. The act was made all the better because of this. Mycroft had complete control; he could get Jim off if he wanted, or just fuck him for his own pleasure. He could abuse Jim, choke him out, strangle him here and now, or grant him mercy. Having total control like this was intoxicating, and drove Mycroft closer to his climax with every forceful thrust of his hips.

Jim moaned softly as he felt Mycroft's come filling his arse. It shot into him in thick, hot spurts, accompanied by Mycroft's guttural cries of pleasure. He felt more of Mycroft's weight sinking down on him, the larger man panting heavy breaths over the back of Jim's neck as he began recovering from his climax. Slowly, Jim felt Mycroft's softening cock withdrawing, leaving his abused hole empty except for the sticky fluids coating his insides and oozing down his thighs. When Mycroft had finally stood, Jim thought he had never been so relieved to be left alone, sprawled on the floor and thoroughly exhausted from the day's fuckings.

Mycroft looked coolly down at Jim as he pulled his pants and trousers back on. "I'll be back to talk to you shortly, Mr. Moriarty," he said, a vague threat hidden behind his words. "I hope you'll be more willing to speak to me then."

Mycroft walked out of the cell, his stride as calm and even as if he hadn't just taken the most dangerous criminal mind while he laid in a puddle of his own piss. Jim laid where Mycroft had left him, too sore and drained to move away from the mess. Slowly, he fell into a fitful, uncomfortable sleep, his mind nothing but a white void as he resisted thinking about what had happened.

-oOo-

Jim was abruptly awakened by cold water spraying over his body. He sat up, gasping in shock as he scrubbed the water our of his eyes to figure out what was going on. The spray continued, although it no longer blinded him. He scowled as two men stood in his cell, one holding a water hose which was the source of Jim's impromptu shower. The other threw a flannel and bar of soap at Jim, the two objects landing so that Jim had to crawl to pick them up.

"Mr. Holmes says he wants you cleaned up before he speaks to you again," one of the men sneered. "And he says we're to make sure you do it properly." The thug looked almost pleased at this thought, and Jim suspected that he was disappointed that he hadn't been invited to the earlier "interrogation" session.

Jim shivered in the cold spray of water, but began washing himself nevertheless. He was almost grateful that the water coming out of the hose was not warm; this way, it helped numb his aching muscles and forced him to become more alert. The soap burnt as he scrubbed over the welts left from the riding crop, but it was easy to ignore the pain in favor of turning his attention on his captors. The man with the hose seemed to have great fun abruptly moving it to spray Jim directly in the face once again, making him sputter and cough as water filled his mouth and eyes. Other times, he would turn the pressure up and aim it for a wound or his cock, making Jim cringe away in pain. The other man simply watched, an amused smirk playing at his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw him occasionally shift positions or rub at his cock through his trousers. Apparently, Jim wasn't the only genius that hired perverts and sadists.

Once Jim had finished washing, scrubbing the dried cum and piss off his stomach and thighs, he set the flannel and soap down and looked expectantly up at the man with the hose. The man's sneer widened, and he shook his head. "You're not done yet, mate," he said with a smirk, his eyes roaming down Jim's abused body once again. Jim scowled, instantly understanding his meaning but unwilling to comply. He was not putting on a show for these scumbags.

"You can do it," the second man said threateningly, "Or you can find out what it feels like to be hit with a tazer when soaking wet."

Jim cringed, scowling at the two men a moment longer before shifting his weight so he was kneeling on his hands and knees. One hand reached behind himself with the flannel and began rubbing between his crease, cleaning away Mycroft's tacky come. He winced as the rough fabric dragged over his raw entrance, but otherwise tried to act unaffected.

"Clean it good," the man with the hose said, barely concealing his glee as he watched Jim touching himself. "Or we'll clean it for you."

Jim swallowed back his anger, but then rubbed more soap onto the flannel before pressing it against his arse once again. He stroked it around his rim, then nudged the cloth into himself ever so slightly, coaxing the last of Mycroft's come to dribble out of himself. The soap felt even worse against his reddened, sensitive skin than it had on the welts, but he persisted, not wanting the two thugs manhandling him after just being abused by Mycroft and his toys. Finally, after spraying Jim's arse with the hose one last time, the men seemed satisfied. The water cut off, and Jim was thrown a towel. A change of clothes was placed onto the table which hours earlier had held the devices of Jim's torture.

"You have five minutes," the man said bluntly. The two left the cell, abandoning the shivering Jim with his thread-bare towel and generic clothing. The outfit looked like the sort of thing one might wear after being sectioned. Jim patted himself dry, then tugged on the clothing. He wasn't surprised when he didn't find a pair of pants in the little pile. Just another one of Mycroft's ways of showing that he controlled how dressed, undressed, sheltered, or bare Jim was. Finally, he ran his fingers through his damp hair, slicking it back behind his ears instead of having it in the disarray it had been in since the ordeal began.

He smirked as he saw his reflection in the scratched-up window. Behind the harshly carved SHERLOCK was Jim, pale and threatening as ever. His grin widened further; Mycroft had made his move, now it was daddy's turn to play.

-oOo-

Five minutes.

Five minutes of privacy was all it took for Jim to gather himself back together. Mycroft realized his mistake as soon as Jim was led into the small interrogation room. Even with his slight limp, he looked as composed as he had the first day he was brought into custody. The corner of his mouth crooked upward slightly, and his eyes were lit with intrigue once again. Jim was far from beaten, and he was ready to make his counter move against Mycroft.

Orders were orders, however, and Mycroft had to get the needed information out of Jim somehow. His superiors had made it painfully clear that they expected more information about this key code of Jim's, and they expected it soon. Mycroft didn't have time to break Jim down again; doing so would take days, and Mycroft only had hours at his disposal. He watched as Jim settled into the hard, metal chair, his face never once betraying any signs of the pain he must be experiencing.

"Good evening, Mycroft," Jim smirked. "I suppose you'll want to talk about the key code, then?"

"Of course," Mycroft answered, betraying none of the frustration and apprehension he was beginning to feel. He had lost his control, Jim was no longer on his leash. He had no clue how Jim intended to make his move now.

"Well, then I propose an exchange," Jim smiled, his elbows leaning lazily against the table. "Tit for tat, you scratch my back, I scratch yours...All that sort of thing."

"I don't believe you're in a position to make any sort of bargain," Mycroft responded coolly, trying to act as if nothing had changed in their dynamic, that he was still the one with the upper hand.

"And I don't believe you're in a position to make me talk any other way," Jim laughed, grinning broadly, manically.

Mycroft's expression didn't change at all as he observed Jim. He knew that he had lost, but he hoped he could find the chink in Jim's armor that would send him crumbling into pieces once again. Desperately, he grasped at the last bit of leverage he thought he might have over Jim. "You know, I was just thinking that now might be a good time to bring Colonel Moran in for a little discussion. I'm sure he's privy to a substantial amount of valuable information, being your second in command and all."

Jim laughed, his expression gleeful. "Oh, please do," he said with a pleased grin. "Just make sure I'm around if you start using your special toys on him. Sebastian is always his most attractive when he's screaming." Jim knew that Mycroft was grasping at straws now; he had just made his last desperate grapple for power and had lost. It was utterly delicious for Jim to watch Mycroft falter and fall.

"What sort of an exchange were you considering?" Mycroft finally relented. There was no use in prolonging the game when he had already lost.

"Let's talk about your brother," Jim smirked, leaning forward on the table to fix Mycroft with his searching, probing gaze.

-oOo-

Sebastian had never been truly worried about his boss being in the hands of the British government. He figured it would be more like a forced vacation for Jim than anything else, a break from his web of schemes and complicated plots. At least in a cell Jim would be forced to sit still and maybe even take a nap every now and again instead of blazing all over London in a manic fit.

He was therefore completely unsurprised when Jim strolled out his cell, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he passed by his captors. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at the fact that he was limping and his cell was covered in deep scratches, roughly spelling out the name of that so-called consulting detective, but he didn't say a word about it. Instead, he followed Jim out into the rank London afternoon. Jim stopped outside the door of the building that had been his home for the past few weeks and turned his face up as if savoring the warmth of sunlight on his skin. Sebastian knew better than to think that Jim was showing an appreciation for nature, however, and decided to light up a cigarette as he waited for his boss to speak.

"Listen to it, Sebastian," Jim said with a smile, his eyes still closed. "London's calling. Calling for a robbery, I'd say."

"Is that so?" Sebastian answered, sounding almost disinterested. "What treasure have you got your eye on now?"

Jim turned to face Sebastian, an impish grin stretched across his lips as he plucked the cigarette out of Sebastian's mouth and pressed it between his own lips. "The Crown Jewels, darling, but first I think we ought to invest in some adult entertainment. I hear there's a lovely new porn out featuring the famed actor Richard Brook and a mysterious government official. I might even let you suck me off while we watch it."

Jauntily, Jim took off down the street with Sebastian following half a step behind. Sebastian didn't even bother to ask Jim to explain himself and his sudden interest in skin flicks. He was sure it would all become clear soon enough.


End file.
